


grip

by perfect_little_fool



Series: Stydia Fics Inspired by 30 Day OTP Challenge [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, F/M, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Touching, Rescue, Touching, Worried Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfect_little_fool/pseuds/perfect_little_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's been gone for five days. Stiles wishes they'd have come for her sooner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grip

**Author's Note:**

> day 1 - holding hands

“ _Come on!_ ”

Lydia’s fiery red hair whips up at the yell, her eyes scurrying everywhere to try and find _him_. His voice echoes across her eardrums as she tries to find him in the darkness, the corners too far away and the distant window seeming too small and she felt hands, cold hands on her body, on her shoulders, on her _neck_ —

“Hey, hey,” there're soft whispers, those abruptly-cold hands dampening into warmer, more calloused touches, the pulse the fingers were pressing into calming down, her breathing regulating as she sees the pupils of his eyes in the black shapes around her. How she registered just the pupils of his eyes she refused to dwell on, her heart rate knocking right back up as she finds his bony wrists and _clutches_ , wanting to weld their skin together so he wouldn’t leave her. So he would _stay_ and she wouldn’t be alone anymore, not anymore— “Are you okay to stand? They’re coming, and we need to be out of this room when they get here. Scott and Derek are holding some off—” A few _thuds_ and knocks and Stiles bolts up, bringing Lydia with him since she was adamant that they stay smashed together.

“Looks like they’re a little ahead of schedule,” he breathes out harshly, moving her hands off his wrists (much to her disgrace) before settling her rapid nerves by twining his fingers with her left hand ones, keeping a grip that kept her grounded. “Ready to run?”

She couldn’t see him in the pitch-black abyss of the room, the room she’d been hunkered down in for _five days_ —fuck _why did it take them so long to find her Jesus Christ_ —but she could tell he was scanning her face in the abyss too, could feel his eyes roaming over her pale cheeks and her ratted hair and her raccoon eyes and—

“Run,” he reiterates before going at a sprint out of the room, her body stumbling along behind his with little grace as her hand was trapped in his, her bare feet slapping against pavement and suddenly there was _light_ , light _everywhere_. “Keep running!”

She does, keeping her eyes trained ahead even as her poor irises that hadn’t seen light in _five days_ are forced to get used to the equivalent of the sun in mere seconds, but is eventually greeted with the back of Stiles head ahead of her. His flannel shirt flew out behind him as they ran across the lot, his arm outstretched as he guided her toward God-knows-where—

That’s when she heard footsteps behind them.

_Don’t look, Lydia, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look_

“Ignore them, Lydia!” Stiles yells as they crash through a door, back inside another building, swerving around piles of boxes. “Almost there!”

She continues to lunge after the boy in front of her, wishing he had at least informed her of their destination before just pulling her into this wild goose chase. Let’s be real. She trusted him wholeheartedly (with her life, to be exact), and didn’t think for a second he was just running blindly—but she was a bit peeved that she wasn’t sure where they were headed. Lydia just knew to keep close, make sure their hands didn’t leave each other, and soon she’d be home free. 

“A little farther now, Lyds, almost!” 

She felt her chest expand knowing he was breathing heavy, panting with exhaustion, but was willing enough to burn even more energy by comforting and encouraging her through the sprint. For that she pushes even harder, forcing her legs to make longer strides, to move quicker.

“Stiles!” She hears the voice ahead and looks up from where she had her gaze trained on said boy’s neck, spotting Scott behind the wheel of the Jeep, Derek at his side slumped against the window and Allison poised at the open back-passenger door with her bow at the ready. She screams louder. “Stiles! Behind you!”

Lydia ducks the minute the arrow is shot, Stiles arm coming around her as they throw themselves into the back seat of his beloved car, whatever Allison had shot having gotten bolted off course from the hit. Allison jumps in as well and Scott steps on it, the car making a straight shot away from the warehouse, the creature that had been chasing them making a pained, awful, high-pitched wail as they screech away.

Moments of silence pass and it took five of them before Lydia realized Stiles' arm was still around her, her entire body curled into his as he laid back against the window. His face was buried in her neck, his mouth pressed to skin as he inhaled and exhaled with what sounded like painful gasps. However, their hands were still clasped together, his fingers squeezing hers with a death-like grip. She doesn’t bring this up nor does she change it, just keeps her own head pressed to his shoulder as she attempts to slow down her heart rate. 

More moments of silence pass.

“Are you okay?” he finally asks with the gentlest of tones once they were about five miles from the warehouse she’d been kept in.

Her eyes move up to his, their bodies still close together as they bring their heads up. Her small, close-lipped smile was sardonic and sad, but genuine all the same. “Yeah. I am now.”

His arm around her upper torso huddles her closer, if she were to pay attention to the movement. “We were going to come get you sooner, but—”

She shakes her head. “Don’t, Stiles. We’re all safe now. Let’s just…let’s just go home.”

Stiles’ face slowly falls back into its normal, relaxed position and she lets her head fall against his chest. Allison beside them says nothing, her gaze trained out the window to her right, and Stiles softly moves his thumb over the skin of Lydia’s wrist. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his other hand clutching at the dip in her lower back. “Let’s just go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> of course I did this since, once again, Stydia is my number one OTP. but I shall warn you now this won't be done in a consecutive 30 days since I am super hella busy at the moment. but I mean there will be 30 fics on some sort of 30 days so that makes sense right? anywho, hope you guys like this collection of fics because I'm pretty excited to do the other 29 after this.


End file.
